More than a Program
by Tomboy-014
Summary: How did Tex escape? Why did Gamma spontaneously eject? What happened to York's left eye? So much happened in such a short time during the downfall of Project Freelancer.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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Washington stared up at the slowly revolving ceiling fan; its rhythmic squeaking filled the silence of the small hospital room. Yellow light streamed in through a large window. Every so often, barked orders drifted in with the breeze, or the soft patter of the nurses and doctors could be heard as they walked the halls.

It was one of the few times he felt alert, present, but his mind was still fractured. Epsilon's death… no, that was the wrong word. Epsilon's suicide had left Washington broken, not only physically but mentally as well. Old memories would flash before his eyes, but he couldn't tell if they were his. Memories he should have had seemed unfamiliar or missing, and it seemed like he had lived through Epsilon's memories. The line between them had become so blurred as their minds disintegrated; it was like trying to put a puzzle together with half the pieces.

Was it Epsilon who decided to attack their teammates, or was it his own choice? Was he the one who decided to run? To fight? Was it even Epsilon who had gone insane? The thoughts, the emotions, and feelings felt real enough to be his won. He didn't turn to look as the door to his room opened.

"The doctors said you were finally stable enough to talk to. Nice to see it's true. How're you feeling, buddy?" a male Spartan asked, followed closely by a female. Both were in regulation white armor.

"York, Carolina," Washington replied and grunted as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position.

Carolina moved to his side. "Let me help," she said and piled pillows to prop Washington up.

"Try to take it easy, Wash," York said. "You've been cert. twelve for weeks."

"I'm fine," he replied, agitated. "What's happened while I was down?"

"Never have time for friends, do you?" York joked. Washington stared blankly at him until York sighed and continued. "A lot of stuff has happened since you've been gone. They've put a permanent hold on all implantations."

"Sounds like the first smart thing they've done since they started the program."

"There's more. Other AI have been going crazy. Not as bad as yours. They removed the programs in time, but we've still got a few in recovery. Personally, I'm worried. She won't admit it, but I think Tex is having trouble staying in control of Omega. Speaking of Tex…"


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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"Oh no," Carolina said and rolled her eyes.

"Let me guess," Washington said, "you challenged her to another firefight."

"York, do you honestly think you even stand a chance of beating her?" Carolina asked.

"Course I can! History in the making today. Right, Wash? Wash?" He looked over and saw Washington's glassy eyes, open but unseeing. Carolina noticed as well, and they rushed to his side, not knowing what was wrong. "Wash? Hey, Wash, snap out of it!"

Delta's avatar flashed into existence. "There is no need for alarm. Agent Washington's medical file indicates that he is prone to slipping in and out of consciousness. We will have to return another day."

Washington lethargically turned his head, looking at everything and nothing in the room, his once alert mind in a state or torpor. Finally, his languid eyes rested on the soft, green glow cast by Delta. He started at it awhile before awareness flickered back into his eyes.

"Get that thing away from me!" Carolina and York pinned him down, struggling to restrain the now flailing Washington. He continued to shout and kick, trying to escape, while the two held down his arms and torso.

Delta flashed red. "Alarm. Threat level raised. Recommend alerting the nearest-"

"We noticed, Delta," Carolina snapped.

"What's wrong with him?" York asked.

"I don't know," Carolina replied, starting to panic.

"Wash, calm down!"

"No! Get the hell away from me!"

Carolina leaned to put more weight on Wash's arm. Now, she could see Washington's face clearly: lines etched in fear and wild eyes focused completely on Delta. "York, it's Delta!"

"What? How-" he started to ask.

Delta cut him off. "Agent Washington's recent incident with the Epsilon AI may have-"

"Later, Delta. Retire!" York ordered.

"Executing."

"You're not putting another of those damn things in my head!" Wash yelled.

"Wash, it's gone," Carolina nearly shouted, straining to be heard over Washington's screams. "Delta's gone. It's alright now."

"No, I won't let you!"

"Wash, look at me," she yelled and shook him, but he was frantic, focused on where Delta had been. In one swift motion, Carolina tore off her helmet and grabbed Washington's face, turning it towards her. They locked eyes. "Look at me! No one's implanting another AI in you. No one! Everything's going to be alright. You're safe here." Her voice became softer and gentler as she talked him down. She and York lowered Washington back into bed, his breathing harsh and eyes vacant once more.

York cast one last look and said to Wash, "Well, wish me luck." He turned to leave; Tex would be waiting.

"York," Carolina said. Her gentle voice was enough to stop him. "You don't have to."

"No one's making me do anything. It was my choice."

She walked towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be fine. Come watch… please?" He lightly traced his finger down her cheek and under her chin. He tilted her face towards him. "Please?"

"I can't. They're removing the AI. Both of them."

"Then I'll tell you how it goes. You take it easy," and York left before Carolina could stop him again.

"Just be careful."


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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The blazing sun beat down on the training grounds, unnoticed by the freelancers encased in their temperature regulating armor. Tex deftly reloaded and fired six rounds down the range; six targets went flying. York was late, so she had decided a little target practice would be good. Dull, but it passed the time.

Wyoming hung around in the background and yawned. He hoped York would get there soon. Tex could stay and shoot tin cans all day, but he was bored, especially since Tex had threatened to shoot him if he tried to tell another knock-knock joke. York finally arrived on the field as Tex set up more cans.

"Well, it's about bloody time, mate. We've been waiting," Wyoming said.

"Sorry. I went to see Wash." York said.

"Finally awake, eh?" Wyoming commented.

Tex shot down another can before she turned to face them. Omega said, "That guy's a whack job."

Delta immediately spoke up. "That was uncalled for."

"Where's Carolina? Not coming?" Tex asked.

"They're removing the AI's." York said.

"It's about time. The poor girl's been a wreck since they put the second one in."

"Yes, but on to the matter at hand," Wyoming interrupted. He was impatient. "What are the rules for this firefight?"

"The usual is fine with me," Tex answered. "Paint rounds, no radar, pistols, rifles, grenades, three shots equal a kill."

"Sure, but no grenades this time," York added hastily, remembering their last firefight. Tex had caught him with a lucky grenade. He had come out covered in so much paint that he could barely see out his visor. They had laughed at him for ten minutes straight. "And could you pick a color other than pink?"

"Hey, you're the ones who said I needed to be more feminine."

York sighed. "You know, I never thought that'd come back to haunt me."

Tex ignored the comment and wordlessly picked through the training locker. As she examined the scope on a battle rifle, York joined her. Tex gravitated towards a pair of SMG's and the latest version of the assault rifle. She grabbed a double handful of clips.

"You don't have to do this," she said.

"I know." York finished adjusting the scope on a battle rifle and shouldered an old assault rifle. "But I've got something special planned."


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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"Ready mates?" Wyoming's voice crackled over their headsets. He was perched high above the outdoor arena, watching through the scope of a sniper rifle. Tex and York positioned themselves in front of the teleporters. "Right then. On 'Mark.' Count down, Gamma."

"10... 9... 8..."

"Last chance to back out," Tex challenged in a sing-song voice.

"6... 5..."

"You'll be the one who wants to quit," York retorted.

"3..."

"We'll see," Tex said.

"2..." Both Spartans tensed, ready to spring at any moment. "1..." Legs coiled, fingers itched at the triggers. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. "½…¼…"

"Dammit, Gamma!" Tex yelled into the microphone. York stumbled forward, barely catching himself before he went through the teleporter. "I said no more jokes!"

Gamma replied over Wyoming's laughter, "Orange you glad I didn't say banana?"

"I swear, if this weren't paint, I'd…"

"MARK!"

They ran through the teleporters and opened fire, dodged bullets and searched for cover. York was quickly forced back by the spray of bullets from Tex's MA5C. He leapt to the left and rolled behind a crate; scant cover, but it would have to do. He reached around and fired his battle rifle. He may have been shooting blind, but it was enough to send Tex ducking for cover.

York took in his surroundings in an instant. They were in a field affectionately dubbed "Ruined City." It was a dusty, fenced in arena filled with crumbling buildings, crates, concrete blocks and a variety of platforms and catwalks suspended from a spider web of chains. York could already see he was at a disadvantage. The field was asymmetrical, the majority of the cover and buildings grouped on one side with a central tower providing easy access to the platforms above. It was the side Tex was on.

York moved to more substantial cover as Tex fired again. He could hear the paint rounds burst and splatter off the concrete around him. He swung his rifle around and fired back when Tex reloaded.

But she wasn't reloading. Instead, Tex grabbed a handful of small rocks, took careful aim and threw hard. At those speeds, they might as well have been bullets.

York heard two sharp cracks as the rocks found their mark and looked up. The chains supporting the catwalk above him went slack. The metal screeched angrily as it twisted and fell, coming down where he was crouched.

Instinctively, he leapt forward and realized too late he was out in the open. Tex unleashed hell from her dual SMG's. York pivoted and scrambled up the fallen walkway until he reached a stable section and sprinted down the catwalk. Legs pumping, he leapt and landed in the heart of the demolished village. He rolled behind one of the buildings and stopped, sliding himself down the wall as he caught his breath.

"First mark," Delta said over the comm.

"What? Where did…" York asked and twisted around trying to find the mark. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"Nice shot, old girl," Wyoming chuckled over the radio. "Center butt plate." They were never going to let him live this one down.

York heard the signature clicks of an assault rifle as Tex reloaded. He quickly moved, hopefully putting distance between them, and caught a glimpse of Tex's shimmer as she tried to close the gap between them.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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"D," York said on internal speakers only, "it's time for a light show."

Tex moved closer and York's figure ran out to the nearest building. She gave chase and lit up the ground behind him. York ran faster, just avoiding the rounds that pelted the walls behind him. He fired and Tex ducked, reloaded, and returned fire, her camouflage fading. After a short recharge, she reactivated her enhancement and flanked left. She leapt and landed lightly behind a crumbling wall; she hadn't even kicked up a cloud of dust. She took York's back and leveled her rifle as he cautiously peered around the corner, his pistol ready. Tex fired, and the pellets splattered all over the wall behind him.

"Son of a bitch!" She rolled and ran for cover as a stream of bullets came from her right. Delta's hologram faded and York charged, switching from battle to assault rifle.

"First mark," Omega announced and Tex vaulted over a concrete block. She looked down and saw the standard red paint on her side. If it was real, it would have hit a lung. York was definitely her greatest adversary. There may have been better fighters, but no one knew her moves quite like he did.

She switched back to SMG's and covered the area, halting York's mad charge. He avoided most of it, but Delta's "Second mark" showed he couldn't dodge them all. Tex reloaded and aimed, but she hadn't expected York to return fire so quickly. She quickly pulled back behind her cover. He was getting more aggressive. She'd thought York would need time to reload but saw he was using an old MA5B, almost double the rounds.

Tex looked down at the red splotch on her arm as Omega announced "Second mark" and ran for better cover. She picked up another small handful of rocks. York had pushed her to the edge of the village where he'd be able to track her more easily in the open. She aimed and threw at the chains above. One of the platforms fell, taking down the tower with it, and the arena filled with dust.


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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York coughed as the dust billowed and engulfed the field more from habit than discomfort.

"Delta," he coughed, "map."

"Acknowledged," and his HUD lit up with green outlines of the hidden structures, altered to account for the toppled tower. "Map is estimated 92% accurate."

York keyed up the volume in his headset and followed Tex's footsteps.

Tex followed the red path Omega lit on her HUD. It lead her to the far corner of the arena, over the fallen tower towards the teleporters. She felt Omega take manual control when they entered the next building, and he pushed aside fallen support beams and barrels. He reached into the small pocket they had formed and she felt their fingers wrap around something. He pulled out what he had been looking for: a string of fragment grenades.

Tex had no memory of them, but sharing a mind went both ways. She probed into Omega's memory banks and discovered it was Agent Nebraska's stash from their original attempt to steal the Alpha AI. They had all agreed to set up emergency weapon stores in case they were cornered, and Omega had taken this file from Omicron.

"What are you doing?" Tex asked aloud.

"Turning the tide," Omega responded and ran right, taking themselves and York deeper into the city. Tex fought against it, but when Omega wanted control, he took it. She only slowed his movements while Omega led York into the heart of the village. Unable to see York anymore, Omega turned on the motion activated radar.

"York, don't-" Tex tried to warn him, but Omega jammed the signal.

On the other side of the field, that was enough. York and Delta recognized the panic in her voice. They weren't fighting a friend anymore; they were up against Omega, and he could get real mean. York slowed his pace and softened his steps. He may not have been invisible, but the impromptu smoke screen had covered his armor in a thick layer of dust. He blended perfectly with his surroundings. As an extra measure, he turned on the motion activated radar. He knew Omega must have by now.

"Wyoming, we've got a problem," he said over the helmet radio. Static hissed back. "Wyoming? Gamma?" Omega had jammed all their radios.

Messing with wireless signals was a specialty of his, but this was pushing the limit. Tex started to lower their weapon, but he quickly raised and locked the armor into position. Wasn't modern technology wonderful? You could trap a soldier in her own armor. He watched patiently as York approached him, coming down between two buildings. Good cover, but little place to run. Omega grabbed one of the grenades, pulled the pin and cocked back his arm.

"Fool…"

"Run!" Tex screamed as loud as she could through the helmet. She regained only enough control to throw off Omega's trajectory. The grenade veered right and exploded in midair, tearing apart the building to York's left. Shrapnel flew in all directions, and York collapsed.

After finally achieving his objective, Omega relinquished control. Tex ripped off her helmet and ran to York's side, horrified at what she saw. Most of York's visor was gone, and blood gushed from wounds up and down his side.

"Oh, god…" Tex said, and shouted over the radio, "Wyoming!"

"I'm already on my way down," he replied. He had seen the explosion. "What in blazes is going on down there?"

Tex gingerly removed York's helmet. Her breathing became more rapid as she started to panic. She had never meant to hurt him. "Call medical!"

"Bloody hell…" Wyoming slowed and stared when he saw the spectacle, as shocked as Tex. He turned and asked her, "What did you do?"

"I'll explain later, just call medical!"

"They won't get here fast enough." He reached down; they each shouldered York and ran for the base.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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York lie awake, eyes shut and dimly aware of the steady, rhythmic beep of the electrocardiogram. Stiff sheets rustled, and an antiseptic smell filled his nostrils. It felt clean, almost too clean. He cracked open an eye and instantly shut it, blinded by the white light above him. He must have been in medical. He raised up his hand to massage his eyes, but felt bandages and a tingling sensation. His face had been numbed. He opened his uncovered eye and pulled himself into a sitting position, almost collapsing from the sharp pain in his side.

"D? D?" His words were slurred, but soon became clear when he couldn't find the familiar, green glow. "D, where are you?"

"I am here, York." Delta projected his avatar through the medical equipment.

York relaxed and leaned his head back against the headboard. "I guess we lost."

"Yes," Delta replied and paused. "York-"

"How bad is it?"

Delta considered withholding the information but quickly abandoned the notion. York had only to look at his charts or override Delta to retrieve the information. "You have been unconscious for three days. Shrapnel was extracted from the left pectoral, abdominal, clavical and facial regions during surgery. Scarring is expected, but full functionality will be retained. However, the damage to your optic nerve was too extensive to repair. There is little chance you will regain the full use of your left eye." York sat expressionless, and Delta was unsure how to respond. The medical cocktail they were pumping into York interfered with their neural connection. "Tex apologizes for what has happened. She-"

"She didn't do anything wrong," York interrupted. "We all know that was Omega."

"Perhaps, but she still feels responsible due to her inability to fully control him. She stayed here for two full days before the Counselor called her away."

"Was she… the only visitor?" York asked.

"Yes."

"What about Carolina?" Delta looked away and did not respond. "No!"

"I'm sorry. Carolina did not survive the extraction procedure. I received the report directly from Nu and Pi."

"Of course," _No one else could know. Everything had to look perfect in the project_, York thought. He looked over at his armor, clean and neatly stacked next to his bed. He picked up his helmet; the shattered visor had already been replaced. _Fucking perfect. _ He mumbled to himself, "At least missions keep you busy."

"I'm afraid there will be no more missions."

"What?"

"Erratic and often violent behavior has become more prevalent as Project Freelancer has progressed to the point that continued operation has proven dangerous to the program itself as well as the agents. Since you have been unconscious, there have been four more AI related incidents. As a result, they have decided to terminate the program. All freelancers will be reassigned to new squadrons as appointed by the UNSC and all AI extracted… and deleted after processing. I myself am scheduled for extraction by the end of the week." York couldn't help but notice the tinge of sadness that laced Delta's voice.

He fell back, tying to process what he had just been told. His world was coming down around him. The Freelancer Program was far from perfect, but it had been his life for the last three years. He and his friends had shed blood, sweat and tears together, become family, as they struggled through the grueling training. It was how he'd met Carolina, and fell in love with her innocent smile. It was how he'd gotten Delta, and formed a bond that few other freelancers ever experienced with their AI. Now, they were going to take it all away. It was too sudden.

Delta's voice intruded on his thoughts, "Do you require any further assistance?"

"No, just…" York said, "just stay online a little longer."

"Of course," Delta said. He knew that his avatar provided some comfort, and he had no desire to leave his assignee, either.

York stroked his helmet, almost as if he could touch Delta. They had become part of one another, shared minds. Even when Delta was first implanted, it felt like a natural fit. They had gained a closeness that few other agents knew, and York didn't know if he could handle being without Delta anymore.

"Delta, what are the odds of us getting out of here?" he asked, turning to Delta.

Confused, Delta began to reply, "With our neural link impaired-"

"I mean get out of here. Command, the program, just up and run."

"York, you are in no condition to be on the move, let alone attempt a full fledged escape attempt, and this is a severe violation of the new safety protocol in effect. All AI must be evaluated and deleted to ensure-"

"You're not a threat to anyone, D," York snapped. "And I'm not letting you go down without a fight."

"I do not understand why you would wish to attempt such a dangerous endeavor."

"We're a team, Delta. Always have been, always will be. I'm not going to abandon you now."

It was illogical, but Delta couldn't help but be moved. He ran the numbers. "In our current condition, there is a 98.7% chance of failure." York cursed silently. "However," Delta continued, "there is a 76% probability that the Omega AI will resist extraction and require the full attention of both security and any available freelancers. Chance of failure at this time drops to 47.5%."

"When's extraction?"

"0900 in two days time."

"Will you watch my left, D?" York asked. They had a chance.

"Of course. We are a team."


	8. Chapter 8

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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Tex stood in line for extraction, relieved to finally be rid of Omega once and for all. She was skeptical, but the technicians had assured her multiple times that this time, when they removed Omega, he would stay gone.

She had to admit, Omega had been useful in the beginning, obedient. Neither of them had known the extent of their integration. Then, Omega began to push. She had pushed back, but he was relentless. It wasn't long before he had burrowed himself into every one of her systems, finding out exactly what he could do, what his limits were, to the point that if he felt she wasn't up to par, he could take manual control. Luckily, it didn't happen too often, but it was becoming more frequent. Each time, he was more dangerous, out of control, but that would soon end.

The line moved forward; she was next, and the two security personnel directed her into the left line. Thankfully, Omega was behaving himself. He was obedient, almost too obedient. It was her turn.

"Agent Texas, step into the yellow box and-" The technician collapsed as Omega delivered a sharp blow to his stomach.

_So that had been his plan_, Tex thought as she did her best to restrict his movements from the inside. One guard rushed their back; Omega reached behind, grabbed his head and flipped him into the other that came to attack their front. Omega pivoted and sprinted for the exit as an alarm sounded.

A squad of foot-soldiers cut them off, another attempt to stop them, but they were easily overwhelmed. A sharp right, roundhouse flowed into sweeping kick, and an uppercut dispatched the first four. Desperate, they dog-piled on Tex and grabbed her arms. She regained some control and fell to her knees. One of the grunts delivered a pounding blow, knocking the wind out of her. If it meant getting rid of Omega, they could pummel her senseless, but the blow caused her to loose what little control she had had.

Omega bucked and threw the guards into the walls of the confined space. They never stood a chance as Omega neutralized the rest of them one by one, nearly killing his opponents in the process. He ran through the heaped bodies on the floor; the exit was his only priority.

"Code Red. Code Red. Target: Agent Texas/Omega. Shoot on sight. Code Red. Code Red." Several dozen guards responded to the blaring announcement, well armed and ready.

"What?!" Tex screamed.

The first rushed her. She grabbed his arm and used his momentum to slam him into the wall. His skull cracked sickeningly and blood smeared as his lifeless body slid down the wall. She deftly stripped the body and grabbed his shotgun, grenades and ammunition. She didn't want to help Omega, but she refused to die because of him. Together, Omega and Tex went to war.

Mechanically, efficiently, they eliminated their enemies. The butt of her gun cracked as it connected with one soldier's skull. The movement flowed into a roundhouse that felled the next. She went low and fired into the mass. Working in synch, Tex and Omega proved just how effective the program could be. Their movements were blurred as their thought's fed into one another and made their movements stronger, faster. Tex fired as she rushed forward, rolled, and came up with a SMG. She sprayed into the remaining crowd. It was fluid. It was lethal, and the guards fell quickly. Omega guided Tex down the quickest escape route.

She skidded as she turned down the next hall, and another squad stood in her path. She didn't stop and charged into the mass. They ducked for cover, and Tex ran up the wall. She leapt, sailing over the crowd and dropped a few grenades in the process. She hit the ground an ran as the grenades detonated behind her, two dull thumps amidst the screams.

She reloaded as she approached the outer doors, ready for the opposition she knew was waiting. She increased speed, leapt and tucked into a human cannon ball that smashed through the doors.

She burst into the blinding sunlight and ducked behind a crate. Omega adjusted the intensity on her HUD. Freelancers had been placed strategically. Iowa, Vermont, Utah, Nevada: her own team ordered against her. She leveled the SMG and aimed as best she could to disable, not kill, those she had called her friends. An arm, a shoulder, and the worst were down, but many still remained. Individually, they were no problem, but the sheer number of opponents that had been thrown at her were wearing her down.

She dropped the shotgun, useless out in the open area, and bolted. She ducked and weaved through the obstacles in her path and tossed a grenade, blasting away those in front of the perimeter gate. She slipped through as the other freelancers approached and bullets whizzed past her. She never looked back once as she ran, sniper rounds pelting the ground around her.


	9. Chapter 9

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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Wyoming sat on his rack and stared at the clock as the red, digital numbers ticked away. 0857: he was late for extraction. He wasn't surprised when two sentries entered his room, armed in case he showed any resistance.

One opened his mouth to speak, but Wyoming waved him off, "I know. I'm going."

He walked slowly, escorted, while he made his way through the base. Several times, the sentries shoved and told him to hurry up, but Wyoming's pace always returned to a slow crawl after a few paces. They had almost reached the extraction chamber when a heavily armed squad ran by, pushing them aside.

The announcing system blared throughout the base, "Code Red. Code Red. Target: Agent Texas/Omega. Shoot on sight. Code Red. Code Red." Wyoming smiled beneath his helmet.

"Right on time," he said, turned on his two escorts, and knocked them out. Wyoming picked up one of their battle rifles and checked the magazine and action. It clicked satisfyingly into place. Gamma lit up their HUD with a map of the base and marked their target: the central computer complex.

Wyoming grabbed whatever ammunition he could from the sentries and entered the nearest maintenance tunnel. With Gamma guiding him, he quickly navigated through the beehive. Up, down, left, right, he avoided security and the ruckus outside as he traveled through the levels.

He emerged in a hallway, only a short distance from the complex and tried the door: locked. The green keypad glowed softly at waist level. He didn't have the code. He stepped to the side, back to the wall, and raised his rifle.

"Knock knock," he said and slammed the butt of this rifle into the keypad. The doors hissed open.

Wyoming sprung into the doorway, crouched low with weapon leveled, and scanned the room. It was empty.

"Clear," he said, more out of habit than anything else. He manually shut the heavy doors that guarded the room. Grunting, he pushed against the heavy weight until they reluctantly slid into place.

Inside, the computer complex was dark, lit only by the multiple screens that covered the walls of the small room. Keyboards and benches were spaced evenly around the room, sunken into the walls. He moved over to one, shouldered his rifle, and sat down. He poised his hands above the keyboard.

"Ready, Gamma?"

"Ready," he replied and extended into the system. Wyoming's fingers flew across the keyboard, hacking from the outside while Gamma spoofed codes, passwords, and encryption keys from the inside. It was quick work. "I'm in."

Together, they focused their efforts on one thing: the location of the Alpha AI. Where Tex and her motley crew had failed, he would not.

"Alert. Security breach in System Complex Alpha. Alert. Security breach in System Complex Alpha." A siren buzzed and Wyoming could already imagine the troops on their way.

"Bloody hell," Wyoming cursed. Time was against them, and the system was more complex than either of them had expected. Breaking in had been the easy part. The computer system ran through the entire planet. Millions of files existed, with thousands more inside. Trying to sort through and search them all was near impossible.

Gamma silenced the alarm and displayed himself on a nearby monitor, "Troop movement detected. ETA is 2.5 minutes."

"Keep looking. It has to be here somewhere." Wyoming typed faster; his rapid pounding sounded like gunfire. Precious seconds ticked by and still no results.

"Reggie!" Gamma's avatar projected and flared. Pounding could be heard as the security team tried to break in, and startled, Wyoming leapt to his feet. The busted keypad would buy them some time. They'd either have to use a remote override or cut their way in.

"We're too close to give up now!"

"Reggie, there is no time!"

"Shit." He tore himself away from the terminal to look for a way out. The place had been designed to be a secure facility, deep underground with only one way in or out. The only problem: the exit was blocked, but it wouldn't be for long. Sparks flew from the doors and buzzed as those outside cut their way through. Wyoming frantically searched the room and spotted a ceiling vent. He pulled his rifle from his back and tore off the metal grating, but realized before Gamma could even say it.

"It will not hold our weight."

"Shit!" Wyoming lashed out and dented the wall next to him. "There's got to be a bloody way out of this. Think, Gamma!"

"There is one way."

Wyoming reeled back in horror as the thought flashed through his mind. "You can't be serious!"

"I can see no alternative."

"No, there has to be another way!"

"There is no time left. I am sorry."

"No. No, Gamma!"

Wyoming screamed as Gamma ejected and disappeared into the computer's network. He collapsed on the ground and clawed at his helmet. The excruciating pain cut into him like a knife. It was like a part of himself was being cut out. He writhed and thrashed on the floor until, finally, his body lost control and went into convulsions.

The team outside burst through the hole they had cut and into the room. They searched the room and only found the discarded rifle, the collapsed agent, and open ventilation duct.

"Call medical and tighten border security," one ordered and grabbed Wyoming's head, holding it in place while the rest of his body shook. "Whatever got Agent Wyoming is trying to get out through the ventilation."


	10. Chapter 10

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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York's body was stiff and ached as he suited up. Movement was difficult, but he grunted through the pain and the last piece clicked into place. The suit hissed as the pressure boundary was established and systems came online. He was dimly aware of Delta's calculations in the back of his mind as he ran a systems diagnostics. Everything checked out.

It was almost nine; time to go. He reached under and pulled out a small bag of provisions from under the bed, spoils from last night's supply raid. Inside were MRE's, a canteen, medkit, pistol and ammunition. I wasn't much, just enough to get out.

York holstered the pistol and eased himself out of the window. Boots landed on hard, compacted dirt, and he moved out, trying to ignore the pain. He needed to be closer to the outer wall before Tex made her move. Otherwise, he would not have a chance.

York clung to the wall, darting from cover to cover. Stealth was key, but it seemed impossible to keep silent. The crunch of gravel under his boots, his breathing, even his pounding heartbeat seemed to fill the area with noise.

He heard another set of footsteps and ducked. He fingered his pistol and eased out to see who was coming. Just an engineer. York leaned back and sighed. He was too nervous. He took a few deep breaths and regained his composure before he continued. More focused, he continued on like a ghost, until he came to the final stretch of open area.

"Halt. Identify yourself," a voice behind him commanded.

He turned and saw two security rovers, Biggs and Marker. A quick look at their uniforms and York saw they were both a couple of privates flexing their positional authority. If he worked this right, he could bluff his way out of this.

"Agent… Montana. I've got orders to-"

"Wrong," they said and raised their weapons towards him. "Agent Montana is currently stationed in Section 14. Who are you?"

"Foxtrot 12. Codename: York," he answered. It was just too hard to come up with a good lie.

"York? The one who fought with Tex? What are you doing out of medical?" the one called Marker asked.

"I… uh…" He struggled to come up with something.

"Doesn't matter," Biggs spoke up and cut him off. "Sir, you're going to have to come with us."

"Code Red. Code Red. Target: Agent Texas/Omega. Shoot on sight. Code Red. Code Red," the announcing system blared.

"Check it out. I've got him," the Biggs said and jerked a thumb at York. Marker quickly left and Biggs turned back to York. "Alright, let's go - oof!"

York had locked his hands together and swung. He caught Biggs under the chin and sent him staggering back. The blow was effective but still too weak to knock him out; York ran.

Biggs regained his balance and called over the radio, "Agent York is making a run for it. I need backup!"

A response crackled back. "Son, we ain't got anyone available! You're on your own."

Shit," he said and opened fire.

The light rounds bounced harmlessly off of York's armor, and he nimbly leapt onto a stack of crates and over the wall of the compound. He figured he had twenty minutes before his pain medication completely wore off. He had to put as much distance between him and the base as possible, so he lit out at top speed. He never looked back.


	11. Chapter 11

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

* * *

He watched as the marines around him were slaughtered. Plasma bolts flew through the air, each a direct hit, leaving skin blackened and cracked like old paper. Toxic vapors plumed as the residual plasma cooled to a gaseous state. Marines fell into shock and died before they even hit the ground. The deadly pink needles lodged in their bodies exploded, sending microshrapnel in every direction. Explosions from nearby plasma grenades muffled everything, and he could only watch.

He tired to get up but could not move. Was his back broken? No… his suit! It was his suit; the neural connection had been broken. He was a prisoner in his own armor. The last marine was slaughtered, and he desperately tried to move. Every muscle strained against the half ton of armor, but it didn't even rock.

He heard gravel crunch and watched as four Elites approached him. They came closer until he could see every crack in their gray hides, their black eyes, their mandibles lined with shark-like teeth. He felt each grab a limb, lift, and pull in different directions. All he could do was scream.

Washington woke with a start, nearly yanking the tubes and electrodes off his body. He sat up, sweating and shaking violently, so frightened he wanted to retch. He gripped the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white. He released his death grip and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hobbled to the window, pulling the IV pole behind him, and rested his hands on the sill. The cool night breeze washed over him, and the pale moonlight cast ghastly shadows on his gaunt face.

That had been one of Epsilon's memories, one of Alpha's memories. As time had passed, it had become easier to separate their memories. He'd been able to find himself again, but it meant reliving the horror that was Project Freelancer.

His blood boiled as he remembered. Exposed to wave after wave of horrifying simulations, it was tortured. He could feel each painful separation as the Alpha broke, fractured into so many pieces that could never be made whole again.

It had been weeks since Tex, York, and so many others had made their escape. He wished he could have, too. Washington was not the only one in the medical wing anymore. Another dozen had found residence there after the end of Project Freelancer, either damaged by extraction or the stress of their own AI. He gripped the sill tighter. And their AI were going to be replaced next week, so the Director could continue his sick experiments. The Director treated them like playthings, objects to be poked and prodded until they could not take anymore. He would never stop.

"It has to end," Wash said and stared outward. For all his friends, for what they did to him, to Alpha, to Epsilon, somehow, "I'll make him pay."


End file.
